


Practice

by Etanseline



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 03:48:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1925637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etanseline/pseuds/Etanseline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minerva liked him, that was all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Practice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aeriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeriel/gifts).



> An extremely last-minute treat; sorry for any mistakes!

Brady normally looked two steps away from collapse, but the closer Inigo got to Minerva, the paler his face became. "No offence, but I wouldn't go near her if my life depended on it."

Inigo ignored him. The low growl in Minerva's chest reminded Gerome of a time when he wouldn't have gone near her, either-- when he was small enough that Minerva seemed insurmountably huge, deathly scared of heights besides, and whenever he tried to approach she would nip at his arms and legs, as if to test his resolve.

Mother had tried not to smile while she explained that they would get on eventually.

Gerome figured that this would end with Inigo bleeding, possibly with Brady in hysterics, and he’d already strayed too close to painful memories. He stepped forward to intervene. Minerva acted before he could: with her head lowered, she butted her forehead against Inigo's chest, knocking him back several paces before he regained his balance.

"Easy!” The tension in Inigo’s face gave way to a surprised smile. "My, you're powerful." Minerva rolled her head into his touch, his palms hesitant on her scales at first, gaining confidence when Minerva stayed still and let him run his hands over the ridges of her nose. The rumble in her chest had changed-- what Gerome had assumed was a signal to back off was now undeniably a sound of content.

Brady looked as storm-struck as Gerome felt. "Since when are you in cahoots with…"

Inigo patted Minerva's nose. "You're a sweetheart, aren't you. I knew it."

"She's not a-- What kind of crazy dastard cuddles up to a wyvern?" Brady shook his head and returned to his violin, placing it back in its case with care.

"So, what did you think?" Inigo glanced toward Gerome, who managed to keep his expression neutral, then Brady, who fumbled with the first latch on his case. "It's much better with music to accompany the dance, yes? Not that my performance did it any justice. When I make that many mistakes, it makes me question why I bother trying at all--"

Minerva shifted. Inigo tensed. Brady gurgled and dropped the lid of his case.

"--but I’ll practice to make it my best dance yet," Inigo continued. "How can I do anything but my best in front of such a lovely audience?"

Inigo turned to look over his shoulder, his expression hidden from Gerome's view. Minerva raised her head, her breath ruffling Inigo's hair, and Brady stumbled out what might have been an apology; to Gerome’s ears it sounded more like a prayer.

"Right. Guess I'll leave you lovebirds to it," Brady said, hoisting his violin case without bothering to buckle the second clasp.

His eyes moved to Gerome before he left: narrowed, like he was trying to figure out what was going on, let alone why Minerva and Gerome had shown up in the first place. Gerome couldn't have told him, but whatever assumptions Brady took back to camp, he wasn't sure they were wrong.

Minerva bore others in the heat of battle, or on the rare occasions when Gerome invited someone else to ride on her back. Few tried to get close to her; his parents aside, she warned off most who tried to approach her, and scared off the rest without trying. She'd eventually warmed to Lucina, perhaps sensing Gerome's high opinion of her, but this--

This was... new. Not entirely welcome, but new.

"She likes to cuddle," Gerome said, once he was certain Brady was no longer in sight. He tried to sound offhand, gruff, with words that weren't meant to sound that way. His voice cracked.

"I suspected she was," Inigo said, relaxed in spite of Minerva's head just above his shoulder, close to his bared skin. She could have ended his life in an instant - with her teeth, her breath, simply with her weight - but Inigo was content to allow her to explore as she pleased, putting his hair in disarray. "We have that in common, Minerva."

It was time to leave, Gerome decided, before he blurted out something inappropriate. He called out to Minerva and she came to him, without hesitation, but with a sideward glance while Gerome climbed astride her back.

Gerome caught Inigo pawing at his hair, a much-needed reminder that this ridiculous fop of a man was more trouble than he was worth. He routinely dragged Gerome along on meaningless jaunts that called his dedication to the war and his ability to be serious about anything into question. He spent more time gallivanting through the woods and streets of nearby towns than he did honing his blade. The sight of him reminded Gerome of his own definition of an unnecessary burden, therefore the sort of tie Gerome didn't need.

"I'll be out again tonight," Inigo said, dragging Gerome's attention back to the ground. His hair was neatly rearranged and he'd started to replace his armour, but he stopped and fidgeted under Gerome's attention. "H-hey, you know how much I hate when you-- Fine, just go already, if you're going to be like that."

Gerome turned his head. "I have better things to do.” Facing down an army of Risen alone would be preferable to another visit to the bar.

"Is my company that off-putting? And don't you dare complain about all the attention you get; you know how I feel about that." He was probably pouting; Gerome wasn't about to look to check. "Besides, I meant out here. How could I possibly show my face in public after that performance? If the lovelies saw me at my worst, I’d never recover."

Gerome let the silence stretch without answering.

Inigo’s reaction came as no surprise: he was uncomfortable, so he flirted. “Does that mean you’ll come?” Gerome gritted his teeth and glanced down. Inigo launched into his usual routine: palm extended, shoulders forward, welcoming, charming smile. His gaze flitted between them before settling on Gerome. “Not that my biggest fans require an invitation. Well, I’ll be here either way; come if you'd like.”

Inigo returned to his armour.

Minerva took pity on him, finally, and with a lunge they were airborne.

* * *

Gerome made a half-hearted attempt to sleep, running through the contents of his pack, Laurent’s report of the day, a rough list of necessities to purchase before they set out for the next march. Failing that, he reviewed everything Lucina had told him of Robin's strategy for their next encounter. Failing that, his thoughts wandered back to the place he'd spent the entire night avoiding.

Minerva had curled herself around the tent with her head near the flap, breathing with impatience rather than the quiet, even breaths of sleep. She rolled her eyes dolefully toward him as he opened the tent, then huffed, quietly pleased to see him dressed and awake.

There was no way to sneak out of camp unnoticed, even at this time of night, with a wyvern in tow. But if anyone asked, he would say that Minerva had dragged him out, and he couldn't let her go alone.


End file.
